


Between Brothers

by McFearo



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Caesar's Legion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, some swearing and crass humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McFearo/pseuds/McFearo
Summary: "Didn't you have a crush on Sertor a month ago?" Damianus reeled back, grimacing at him in disgust. "Swear you did. I can't keep up with you, you're always soft for someone." Erasmus slugged back another drink of his alcohol. He went on: "It's fine, you know--""Sertor's a prick," Damianus cut in. He didn't want to think about it. "He gets off on beating recruits.""Yeah, he's a prick. Glad to see you finally getting some standards." Erasmus grinned at him, baring the gap where his front teeth had been knocked out.orErasmus is a good and supportive friend, but also a gross one.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Between Brothers

When he woke with a start, Damianus wasn't certain what time it was. It felt later than it should be; Erasmus was to wake him and trade guard shifts at midnight, and that vague internal clock said it was past that. He sat up and leaned to stick his head out of the tent, searching for the moon. Definitely past midnight, by nearly an hour.

He donned his armor quickly, at war with himself over what to do. If an attack was mounting, if Erasmus had been killed by some tribal scouts, Damianus should raise an alarm immediately rather than go prancing off into the dark alone like an idiot. If he met the same fate he'd leave his brothers sleeping, unaware of what was coming.

If, however, Erasmus was anything short of dead, he might be dead or something like it come morning if Damianus ratted him out for dereliction.

It was stupid to risk ambush to cover for one slacker.

Damianus slipped silently out of the tent.

He walked around the camp outskirts, craning his neck for any sign of his friend and trying to act like it was a normal patrol pass. His skin crawled when he spotted the guard assigned from another tent group and met his eyes, waiting to be called out for only now walking his circuit.

The recruit only gave him a terse nod and kept walking, apparently having not picked up on the discrepancy. Too green to be alert to it, perhaps, or else he decided against questioning a prime.

By the time he'd nearly completed a full lap he'd seen nothing but a couple of other guards, the dogs, the occasional tired slave still working, and a camp full of sleeping men. Where the fuck was Erasmus?

In the dark a little ways off to his right, away from camp, there was a faint thump and a soft whisper of what sounded like "shit". Damianus stopped and drew his machete.

Touching his toes down first at the front of every step, he crept into the dark, glancing down for loose rocks that might scrape underfoot. The sand and scrub of the desert rolled in little hills out here between the mesas. One dropped off sharply, a short cliff barely 6 feet high someone could put their back to and stay out of sight of the Legion camp above and beyond.

Damianus crept up silently and leaned to look down, spotting a figure below him, crouched down and feeling around for something in the faint starlight. The figure stood straight, back to him, and screwed the cap off a bottle it lifted to its lips right as Damianus dropped down next to it. He had his machete to its throat barely a moment after his boots hit the ground.

Erasmus accidentally inhaled whatever he was drinking, and Damianus retracted the blade in time to not slice his neck open when he doubled over in a coughing fit.

He put his foot up on a rock to peer over the top of the ledge while Erasmus struggled to keep quiet and get his retching under control. No other guards were patrolling nearby, and no movement in the nearest tents some 30 feet away to signal he'd woken their squad. Damianus stepped back down and snatched the bottle from Erasmus' hand while he was preoccupied.

It looked like water inside, and the writing on the label was all gibberish to Damianus, but he wrinkled his nose when he gave it a sniff. "Where did you get alcohol?"

"Confiscated from a farmer's sons to prevent their moral dissolution," Erasmus wheezed. He managed to straighten, the worst of his fit past, and gestured to Damianus to try it.

"I don't want any. And you shouldn't either," Damianus scolded.

"Oh, lay off, Mom." He snatched the bottle back, pointing at Damianus as he added: "You didn't see anything, then."

Damianus scoffed quietly. "Spoken as though I ever spare attention to you. But I won't share your beating if you're caught stumbling into camp drunk."

"That's the benefit of not having seen anything."

Erasmus leaned back heavily against the rock wall and took another draught. Damianus grimaced -- even if it weren't illegal, he couldn't imagine getting it down. It smelled worse than bitter drink.

"True. If I was never here, I didn't catch you getting drunk -- even though I was supposed to trade shifts with you. I can be demoted from willful negligence to incompetence. That must be worth half as many lashes, do you think?"

Erasmus patted him briskly on the back, over the scars that criss-crossed under his armor. "You have room for a few more," he said.

"Small canvas for a broad stroke, if Sertor holds the whip." Flippant as he tried to be, there was a growing unease on Erasmus' face that felt vindicating. Good. Maybe he'd make better choices. "Well don't look at me like that. Drink up, don't be a coward on my account."

"I ought to chase the bottom to make the beating worth it," he grumbled back moodily.

Damianus shrugged. "Far be it from me to stop you. From the bottle, or from tripping over your own feet and kissing the ground on your way back to camp."

"You wouldn't let me."

"You're sure? It's as if we're just meeting. Ave, I'm Damianus."

"Didn't you have a crush on Sertor a month ago?" Damianus reeled back, grimacing at him in disgust. "Swear you did. I can't keep up with you, you're always soft for someone." Erasmus slugged back another drink of his alcohol. He went on: "It's fine, you know--"

"Sertor's a prick," Damianus cut in. He didn't want to think about it. "He gets off on beating recruits."

"Yeah, he's a prick. Glad to see you finally getting some standards." Erasmus grinned at him, baring the gap where his front teeth had been knocked out.

"I'll get a standard from the nearest vexillarius and beat the rest of your teeth out of you with it, if you like."

"Grow your hair out like that frumentarius, I might mistake you for a girl and call it a good time." Erasmus was still grinning when Damianus scowled at him. " _ That one _ you think is handsome."

"He is, and he knows it. You can tell from how high he puts his chin," Damianus said, tilting his head and pointing his nose in the air to demonstrate. "Thinks he's better than us grunts, running papers like an errand boy."

"You want to kiss him, huh?"

"I don't-- you-- the only man's lips I want on me is yours on my knuckles if you keep this up. Why are you so--" He gestured wildly, frustrated. "Why do you ask me these things? What's your interest?"

"I dunno. To bug you." Erasmus smiled a little again, and looked thoughtfully at him, taking another drink. "And because I worry. You think you're good at hiding it and most people probably don't notice, because of that bitchy face you do all the time like everyone you look at did something wrong, but I notice. 'Cause I know you too well. The way you look at men sometimes.

"It's dangerous, being… like that. You know that."

Damianus fidgeted with his weapon belt and stepped up on the rock again to take another peek and make sure no one was listening in on them. "I know," he muttered. "That's why I keep it to myself. I'm not going to do anything, okay?"

"You could, you know. If you're careful. I know some men do, right?" He was looking at him too earnestly, and Damianus had to look away, even as Erasmus dragged a finger over his own heart in the shape of an X. "You find someone and… you know… I wouldn't tell a soul. Maybe you should, and just be careful about it."

"Why, have you?" He couldn't believe he was having this conversation. He could feel his face burning in the dark -- a small mercy that Erasmus probably couldn't tell. Damianus snatched the bottle back out of his hand. "You've had too much of this."

"Women only for me," Erasmus said, stretching, "I'm just trying to look out for my-- hey!" He scrambled to take the bottle back as Damianus turned it over and began to pour it out. "You motherless sunnuvabitch!"

"Which one is it, then?" Damianus said, leaning away with the bottle and holding Erasmus away from it with his free hand. He had less reach, but he was strong enough to push him back.

"Last time I try to do you any favors, bastard." Erasmus bared his teeth in an annoyed snarl as Damianus tossed the empty bottle back to him. "You and that frumentarius deserve each other, I catch him in the morning I'll ask if he's got room for one more in his ass with his head stuck up--"

"You're disgusting!" Damianus shoved him. "Get back to camp and sleep it off, booze hound."

They shoved at each other, neither really looking to cause harm; despite his indignation, Erasmus was snickering by the time he climbed back up the low ridge to return to camp.

"Hold it. Give me the bottle back."

"What for?"

"So I can hide it, fool. Or should we all run extra laps in the morning for your sins, because someone found an empty bottle that shouldn't be here?" Damianus held out his hand expectantly, and caught the bottle when Erasmus tossed it down to him.

Damianus lingered behind when he was gone, drawing out his machete and using it to roughly dig a small hole beside the rock. He buried the bottle there carefully before climbing back up. Certainly, he'd be missed on his patrol -- he was going to be in trouble when he got back, all for covering for Erasmus' mistakes.

By the time he got back to camp, lo and behold, the guard from earlier was walking out to meet him. "Ave. What was it?"

"Beg pardon?" Damianus asked stiffly. Here it came. He'd been spotted with the evidence, somehow.

"The other guy said you went off to investigate a noise. Did you find anything?"

"No." He shook his head, too stunned that Erasmus had thought to cover for him to think of much else, but he corrected himself. "No, just coyotes."

"Right. Well, back to it."

"As you say,  _ recruit _ ," Damianus said sharply, reminding him of the difference in their rank. The man ducked his head nervously and turned on his heel, and Damianus followed, relieved to have gotten off apparently scot free.


End file.
